


Lost and Found

by Aithilin



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Established Relationship, Friendship, Gen, Kittens, M/M, Regis is a good dad, chocobros friendship, peaceful AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:01:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25654822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aithilin/pseuds/Aithilin
Summary: While on a day trip out to Altissia, Noctis finds something no one had expected.No one is going to tell him he can't keep the kittens.
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia & Prompto Argentum & Noctis Lucis Caelum & Ignis Scientia, Noctis Lucis Caelum/Nyx Ulric
Comments: 21
Kudos: 77





	1. The Flowers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JazzRaft](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JazzRaft/gifts).



The streets had been lined with flowers. Boxes had been affixed to nearly every window, heavy planters set every few paces from each other were pressed against the peeling and chipping paints of the colourful walls, the colours mingling together to cover the streets with petals at the slightest breeze. Flower garlands crossed overhead— a net of long blossoms clouding the sky where the streets narrowed and the canals widened. Perfume lingered in the air— from the ladies passing them by, from the flowers surrounding them— the scents mingled in the air just as fragrant as the salt of the sea and the tantalizing scents carried from the restaurants in the plazas. 

Gladio watched the petals dance in the breeze, smiling as the colourful songbirds of Accordo plucked at them from the source. Some landed on the garlands, the softest touch sending showers of colour down like confetti to the street and canals where errant fish gulped at the ripples in hopes of an easy meal. He watched as the occasional feather drifted down in the showers, and wondered at the varieties of blues and reds, yellows and whites. 

Music drifted on the breeze; a hundred songs from a hundred shops and bistros and buskers. Shouts carried with them, louder from the docks as deceptively distant voices seemed louder over water. The plazas of Altissia were vibrant with noise, and light, and life, even as the sun dipped beneath the harsh protective line of the Accordo coasts. The cliffs that had given way to the Celluna Cascades were given gold shrouds in the fading day, even as the flowers of the city burst with colour. 

He watched an industrious bluebird weave its collected petals into a nest in the gaping stone maw of the Tidemother. A small altar with flickering lights of fake candles was draped in silk flower that seemed to pale when compared to the bouquets and planters everywhere around it. 

“You moving, Highness?”

“In a minute.”

Noctis had found a quiet spot out of the way of the streets that led to the plaza. It was a little corner in the shadow of a row of quiet stores. He had gone there twenty minutes ago with a sandwich in hand, and rushed out to issue orders over his phone instead.

Gladio had been fine to stand guard at the mouth of this little side street. He had stemmed the flow of traffic as happy couples and curious tourists wandered to admire the festive decorations at the beginning of the golden hour. 

“Any sign of Iggy?”

“Just coming down the steps across the plaza. Blondie’s got the box you wanted.”

It had been easy to watch the people out in the plaza rather than the Prince crouched in the shadow. It had been easy to listen to the confused cacophony of music and laughter and life around them as it ebbed and flowed through the city, rather than listen to his Prince coo and fret over the weak mews stirring the shadows out of sight. 

He had forgiven the fire in Noctis’ eyes when the damp burlap had been tossed away like trash and landed on his boots. Because he had seen the small bundle of shivering fluff in Noctis’ hands and the careful way he stemmed his rage as he gathered the two more kittens to him. They were small and alert, damp but alive; tiny claws sticking to Noctis; shirt as he struggled to balance them all. As he refused to trust even one of the three to Gladio. 

Ignis arrived with two bags in hand, one from the shop where they had left him earlier and another bearing the emblem of a pet shop they had passed along the way. With great difficulty, Noctis and Prompto managed to set the kittens into the box Prompto had found, his own hoodie serving as bedding for now. 

“We can’t keep them,” Ignis muttered to him as they watched Noctis try to settle the kittens enough to be carried. “How will we even get them through customs if we could?”

“Do you want to tell him that, Specs?” Gladio smiled at the consternation that crossed Ignis’ face— the familiar frown and furrowed brow of a man who knew when he had no hope of winning an argument. “Caem isn’t that far, we put shopping on the declaration when we arrived. What’s one more box getting loaded on the boat?”

“And the King? What do we tell him when we get to Caem and reveal that this daytrip to Altissia involved smuggling live animals?”

That was a valid concern, Gladio supposed. 

“Worst case, I’ll deal with his Majesty.”

“You’ll ‘deal’? Gladio! How-” Ignis took a breath as his ire drew Noctis’ attention, he waved the Prince off and composed himself from the sudden shock of the sudden addition to their travelling party. “Dear gods, he’s already named them all.”

“We’ll handle it, Specs. Deep breath and hand over the cat food.”


	2. The Naming of Cats

“Can cats get seasick?”

“One would assume so,” Ignis watched the box with a wary eye. It was mewing. “I believe it has to do with balance.” 

There was an occasional bump as one of their illicit cargo seemed to have lost its footing and thumped against the cardboard barrier. They had resisted the urge to gather around the little box as Noctis took them out past the protective and ornate gates and back on their way to the safety of the Lucian coast where Ignis’ extensive and last minute research on diplomatic immunity in cases of smuggling would no longer be needed. 

Once on the open waters, Prompto had freed the box from where it had been nestled between their bags of shopping. For good measure, Gladio had picked up some bouquets on their way through the plaza markets to match the box with another— to lessen the suspicion and, as he stated “smooth the way”— before they even reached the busy Altissian port. Now, the flowers had been set aside, and the plaintive mews of disoriented kittens filled the cabin.

“But we must come up with better names for these three if we intend to introduce them to the King.”

“I like the names,” Noctis said from the wheel, already setting his heading to the distant lighthouse clearly visible against the Lucian shoreline in the dimming sky. “What’s wrong with them?”

Prompto had set himself down on the decks to examine each kitten in turn, the tin of food Ignis had brought for them already licked clean. “Noct, buddy, bestie, they’re terrible names. You can’t name cats after fish.”

“Try telling that to Gar, Salmon, and Koi.”

“I agree with Prompto,” Ignis offered gently. “The names are… not the most befitting of a royal pet. Perhaps Rosemary, Saffron, and the brown one could be Cinnamon?”

“I’m not naming my cats after food.”

Prompto grinned at the idea, “Think those were spices. Food would be Butter, Milk, and Sushi.”

“Sushi’s not bad.”

“Not Sushi,” Gladio lifted one of the kittens. It was a dull sort of mottled brown, and getting fluffier as it dried from the harrowing day it had. “What about something tough and natural? Rock or Storm?”

“That’s stupid,” Noctis scoffed at the idea, “like Cloud, Squall, and Tidus?”

“Perhaps,” Ignis mused, picking up a a sleek black and white kitten who seemed intent on licking the tin of food clean; “the King could name them? Surely that would help endear the kittens to him, and he’ll be more inclined to—”

“To forgive the laws we broke to smuggle them out of Altissia?” Gladio lifted the brown kitten a little higher for inspection. It fit in the palm of his hand, shaky on the waves, but curious for the new world around it. Sharp little claws sank into flesh by his thumb as Noctis adjusted his course and shifted their balance. “I kinda like them.”

“You can’t have one,” Noctis said. “You’re never home and you would try to teach it tricks like a dog or something.”

“Hey, cats are smart, and independent,” Gladio removed the kitten from his hand and set it back in the box with the sleek and sleepy black one now curled half in the empty tin. “That black one is already taking after you.”

Caem came upon them faster than they had thought. Ignis set his own little tuxedo back into the box with its siblings, and sighed as the mewling started again. The secret would be out as soon as they docked, and there would be no way to ease the King into the idea that there were three new mousers-in-training for the royal apartments. He carefully closed up the box with a loose fold, knowing full well that if he carried it, it would be less likely to be grabbed by some well-meaning guard. The cliffs rose above them, the cave barely hidden in its shadow swallowed them in darkness even as the evening lights flickered to life in the lighthouse towering above them. The solid doors of the old base mimicked the back of a natural cave, and the water lapped roughly at the docks as Noctis carefully guided them in. 

Ignis lifted the box as the Marshal stood from the worn out sofa that should have been thrown out years ago to greet them. 

“Uncle Cor—” Noctis started before the mooring lines were even tied off. Before Gladio had dragged Prompto out to get them settled into place.

The Marshal lifted a hand to quiet him, and pointed at the box; “What did you do now?”

“I can explain,” came three voices as one. Gladio the only one adding a clipped ‘Sir’ to the end of his offer. 

Prompto, to his merit, barely flinched as Cor rounded on him instead; “Argentum. What did you do?”

“Me? Nothing. This is all Noct’s fault,” at the cold stare from both military commander and his best friend, he offered a distinctly helpless shrug. “Well, it is. I just took pictures.”

“He meant to explain, Prompto,” Ignis was careful as he disembarked. The box barely jostled, but the whining cries from within still seemed far too loud in the cave. “His Highness has adopted some kittens in our little adventure, Sir. Gladio was with him if you’d like a report.”

All eyes turned to Gladio as he rolled his eyes, “I said I’d handle his Majesty, not the Marshal.”

“Uncle Cor, I had to. They were in this bag and—”

“Did you name them yet?”

“Sort of? We were working on it.”

Cor sighed and lifted one edge of the box to look at the mewling contents. His expression was unreadable in the struggling light of the wartime alcove, the shadows crossing his face as time seemed to stop around them. The world crashed back down within seconds, and the fear that they may not be able to keep the kitten suddenly seemed very, very real. 

“Name the black and white one Clarus. His Majesty will want to keep that one.”


End file.
